


the old ways

by Val_Creative



Series: GoT Drabble-Palooza 2019 [48]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Asshai (ASoIaF), Blood Magic, Dark Daenerys Targaryen, Dark Magic, Essos, Necromancy, Non-Graphic Violence, Nudity, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Queen Daenerys, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Triple Drabble, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Drogon carries his mother’s body to Asshai, where he and his brother’s eggs were claimed, where red priests and black alchemists, warlocks, necromancers, bloodmages flock to revive her.





	the old ways

**Author's Note:**

> SO I REFUSE TO THINK DAENERYS IS DEAD SINCE DROGON FLEW EAST AND,,,,,, yeah Asshai is right there and full of black magic. She's gonna live. This is me making wish fulfillment and let me know what you think! How did you enjoy the very last episode? Hope you liked one or two things about it!

 

 

*

Queen Daenerys's eggs came from the Shadow Lands of Asshai. It is known.

Red priests and black alchemists, warlocks, necromancers, bloodmages flock upriver to Stygai where a mighty beast waits in the gates, keeping the demons and foulest spirits at bay within the haunted city of corpses. An enormous, _feral_ thing scaled in brilliant red and stygian like pure dragonglass. In his claw, a dead, silvery woman _covered_ in her own lifeblood.

They perform rites, spellsongs and arcane human sacrifices, chanting in shrill, ululating voices. Occasionally, Drogon hungers, setting one of the living worshippers ablaze, feasting on their charred, _stenching_ remains. The ecstasy and frenzy _heightens_.

Daenerys opens her eyes, her pale violet creeping out, replacing with the colour of lifeblood. The whites of her eyes blackened.

" _Your Grace_ ," a shadowbinder acknowledges her, bowing, their voice rumbling like thunder into Daenerys's breast. Their mask shining like the edge of a pearly blade. The sensation of their hand being lukewarm, bloated flesh.

She lies upon the rubble, naked and scarred, and rises to her feet. She rises and remembers a grim-faced Tyrion casting aside his gilded pin into the dust. Remembers Missandei and Rhaegal's deaths. Jorah. Viserion. Remembers Jon Snow's face over her, weeping and slick with his mucus and tears in his beard. How all of Westeros betrayed her. _Jon_.

Her mouth opens, howling-wide, and those first syllables twist themselves, spawning such horrors resembling shadows and flames. The waters of Ash glow beneath Daenerys's bare, pale feet like the dim luminosity of wildflre within the darkness.

Drogon echoes her, snarling, flapping his wings and arching his head high.

Asshai spreads the word that a _new_ Queen has come, to tear their world apart, to give them magic and fear and vengeance.

And they _will_ understand it… through fire and blood.

*

 


End file.
